


Laws of Motion

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-23
Updated: 2006-03-23
Packaged: 2019-02-02 07:59:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12722685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Jack already knows, but it’s a wake up call for Daniel. Someone puts a spring in someone else’s step.





	Laws of Motion

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: Warnings: Language.  


* * *

Chapter 1

It had been another one of Sam's damned throwaway comments that had sparked the whole thing off. We lay on her sofa, both three sheets to the wind, giggling like teenagers.

Teal'c had cried off this little shindig, purring something sounding suspiciously like 'NurseJennifer'. Yeah, Teal'c adored NurseJennifer. And NurseLauren, and NurseBecky. Jack had been given (yes, given, Daniel!) a ticket to see the Avalanche beat seven kinds of crap out of the Stars, and it was the first game of the season, so he could hardly refuse. So, it was just me and Sam, which was supposed to be all nice and cosy. We hadn't done this in so long.

I lay with my head in her lap, as she ran her fingers through my hair.

"You know. You know," she began, changing emphasis from 'You' the first time to 'know' the second time through. "Everyone loves you, Daniel. Loooooves you."

"Really."

I'd been through the nicely drunk stage, and was now entering the vaguely depressed and dissatisfied stage. Welcome to Lonesville, population You, Doctor J. Another bit of soul-searching was just around the corner, if I didn't watch out. Of the 'I've got no-one, nobody loves me, and I never receive any recognition' kind.

Sam knew me well enough to be able to head that sucker off at the pass.

"Oh, yeah. I mean, everyone that doesn't want to mother you to bits just wants to get into your pants. You know that." She wiggled her eyebrows and leered. "Not just the women."

"Oh, right," I snicked back, making a disbelieving sound in the back of my throat, the best I could do right now to show that I didn't believe a single word Sam was saying. I felt brave, and I was still drunk after all, so I asked for clarification.

"And you, sis? Wanna mother me?"

She grabbed me round the neck, cutting off the air to my brain in her affectionate but trained to kill with these hands kind of way.

"Aw, Daniel. You can be my little puppy doggie." She threw her head back on the sofa, laughed, then winced as it impacted against the wooden frame within the padding. Five minutes later she'd been snoring, so I staggered down the hallway and collapsed onto the spare bed. And that had been where we'd left it that night.

Unfortunately, I had perfect recall the next day. The concept nagged at me while I nursed a coffee and Danish in the commissary. Hell, I didn't even know everyone here, but that habit of evaluating and assessing wouldn't leave me alone.

Lieutenant Hershey. Mother.

Sergeant Siler. Mother.

Sergeant Gray. Pants.

Colonel Makepeace. Mother. In the 'don't ever darken these doors again' kind of way.

A friendly hand clapped me on the shoulder, and seconds later I was treated to the spectacle of one beaming Jack O'Neill, swivelling a chair round so he could lounge over it in a cavalier fashion, obstructing the view and generally being full of it.

"Good time last night?"

"Not bad. We had far too much to drink. Carter's discovered those tropical fruit mixer things, kept threatening to sneak one in for Teal'c. How was the game?"

"A draw. So George owes me ten bucks and Siler owes me..." he retrieved and unfolded a slip of paper from his top pocket. "my weight in precious gemstones, a streak through the infirmary while Frasier is on duty, or my lawn mowed for a month. Guess which one I think I'm getting." He toyed with the piece of paper again, before twisting it up and putting it back in his pocket. "Daniel?"

So, I'd stopped listening as soon as Jack had mentioned the score. Generally, this is a good thing because it means I don't have to fill my brain with useless information on icing calls and how the power plays just aren't working. I'd gone back to my little game. Jack. Mother. Definitely. Just add 'hen'.

"Daniel?"

I met his gaze, twinkling over the chair back, and something in my stomach did a weird little twist. Just like the twist Jack had put in his note from Siler.

"Daniel?"

No. No way. No way in a million years.

Jack. Pants.

Never.

"Boy, you really are out of it this morning, aren't you." Jack waggled his hand in front of my eyes.

"Sorry, Jack." I forced a smile, before the Hen Pants Mother Jack could descend on me and get me even more confused.

Jack stood to go. "Briefing in twenty, Daniel. Be there, or be, you know..." he made a little shape in the air with one finger, "one of those rectangle things..." He sauntered off, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

I couldn't help but draw a long, shaky breath. What the hell was going on here?

On the planet, I have a chance to think things through as we're revelling in the delights of what Jack instantly calls 'Mosstopia'. It's damp, grey and depressing. And very, very mossy.

Jack is very, very bored. And when Jack is bored, then, oh boy, I'm generally the first to know about it. Because Jack always pairs up with me. Always. And Jack always shares a tent with me. Well, there are reasons for that, aren't there, despite the fact that Sam knows I'd be more than willing to share with her.

And then all hell breaks lose as an injured man stumbles out of the undergrowth, and hey presto, we're all transported off to the prison planet of Hedante. Apparently, our helping this man also makes us guilty of his crimes.

Jack is his usual overprotective self, but I start to see it for what it really is. His hands are all over me from the second we arrive. He leans in close. "You gotta trust me on this. Signs of weakness are not a good thing in prison."

He removes my glasses and places them in my breast pocket. His fingers ghost down my front, as do his eyes, before he turns away.

The next few hours are mostly spent trying to remain inconspicuous. Sam talks to Linnea, who seems to hold some sort of power over the rest of the in-mates, in the hopes of trying to find a way out. The rest of us just try to stay out of trouble. These guys are, well, far from pleasant to put it mildly, and they make it perfectly clear what they're after. Jack doesn't give anyone the time of day. He says he's watching my six, but I know better. What he's doing is saying very loudly, 'he's mine, hands off'.

Of course, we can't stay out of trouble for long. When I eventually regain consciousness, Sam is hovering over me. But it's not her I see. Without my glasses, Jacks face glows like a beacon in the eerie blue phosphorescence. I may be confused, but I want him close.

We spend the night catching sleep in snatches. I try to analyse my waking realization and all the attendant emotions, which is not easy to do under the circumstances, especially since I should be helping to figure out how to get us out of here. My brain trundles out the usual logic, but my body wants reassurance, and apparently only he will do. Shit. We sit side by side, not talking, knees touching. He wants me; and apparently, I am not averse to the idea.

There are just so many reasons why this is wrong. Even ignoring the guy issue, our CO has Air Force written in neat little blue letters right through the centre of him, and he is... well, even without the sleep, he is one fine looking guy. The hair is going grey, granted, but it just seems to add that extra something. He's kept himself immensely fit, and he just exudes controlled strength. I want to hit myself in the head. Sam's throwaway comment comes back to haunt me, as I note with irony that she is solidly asleep, propped up against Teal'c's back while he is in Kel'no'reem.

* * *

Chapter 2

Sam and Linnea together get us out, and we're back home by late Tuesday night. Linnea returns with us, then hotwires all the computers so she can escape. We're treated to a few panic-filled minutes as the auto-destruct counts down and then fizzles out as the computers reboot. It's early Wednesday morning by the time we get through the medical. As usual, the mission has screwed with my metabolism and I feel antsy, and need to let off steam before getting some sleep.

I glance over at the T man, ably being touched up by Nurse Peaks. Private nickname, 'twin'.

"Teal'c, what say you and I head off to the gym after this?" I swing my legs and accidentally kick my nurse, who is nowhere near as pretty as Teal'c's, seeing as its Peter Roberts.

He just nods, eyes never straying from the impeccably starched bosom in front of him.

"Daniel?"

The curtain behind me twitches, revealing Mr Pouty, doing up his pants.

"Sure. I've still got a numb ass from all that time you made me sit on that damp rock with my back to the wall."

I'm almost agog. Daniel's got be really worked up before he thinks he needs extra exercise. I risk a quick peek at said artefact while he's preoccupied. Yup, it's still all there.

"I'll meet you guys down there. I need to pick up a new prescription." He looks around. "No Janet today?"

"Guess not."

"Huh."

Teal'c and I get the hell out of dodge, and are greeted by an extraordinary sight as we enter the gym. Janet Frasier, in civvies, being ably assisted in by Siler in setting up...

"What is this device, O'Neill?" A beefy jaffa hand claps me on the shoulder.

"This is Cassie's birthday present, Teal'c," Janet supplies, wiping grease onto her nose with the back of her hand. "And I thought I'd have a couple more hours grace before you showed up." Janet doesn't sound best pleased.

"We got bored. Came home early." I turn to Teal'c. "And that, my friend, is a trampoline."

"And I absolutely forbid any of you to use it," the pocket Napoleon glares up at us, oozing mini-menace. "We're just checking that all the bits are here before taking it home."

Siler keeps his head down, stays in the background. Good man. He knows it's more than his life's worth to get between the Doctor and her goal - or between me and a good time.

"For what purpose does one use this device, O'Neill?" rumbles Teal'c, not sure whether to touch it, sniff it or bring it a bowl of water.

"That, my friend is solely for fun."

"And I still absolutely forbid any of you to use it," reiterates Janet, sitting back on her haunches, a job well done. "Under pain of penlight, injection, and..."

"I get it; the latex glove salute."

"Without lubrication." She's pure evil.

I turn on the old charm. A smile can't hurt, surely. "Hey, I just came down here to use the facilities."

Janet's saved from having to deliver another cutting remark by klaxons announcing an incoming wormhole. She nods to Siler. "I'd better go. Keep these louts off of it."

Siler nods back, keeps his head down. Doesn't make eye contact as Janet leaves the room. I guess maybe it's time for a little blackmail. I take out the IOU note and wave it in Siler's direction.

* * *

I must be going nuts. I, Daniel Jackson, renowned the universe over for being able to hold the same position for twelve hours straight both on a dig and in my office, have just volunteered for physical exercise. Motives, Jackson? Sure enough, at the gym I'm given the incontrovertible evidence that nut-dom awaits. Wave bye-bye, sanity, and say hello to... a bouncy Jack O'Neill. Jack and Teal'c, together on a trampoline, Jack studiously gripping Teal'c by the wrists and the pair of them for all the world looking like Tigger and Eeyore having a grand day out. Well, Jack looks like he is enjoying himself. Teal'c looks significantly less impressed. I have to give myself a shake.

"See, Teal'c, what did I tell ya? Fun, isn't it!"

"Indeed O'Neill, it is not." Teal'c glares down at his feet looking vaguely queasy, before finally managing to get out of Jack's clutches and off the trampoline, which doesn't stop Jack, no way.

"Hey, Danny! Fancy a bounce?"

"Er, no. That's all right. I'm fine. Don't let me stop you, though. What's this doing here?"

"This is CassandraFrasier's birthday present. O'Neill has decided to assess its suitability." Teal'c looks warily at the device as if wondering how it could be used to combat Apophis. He throws a withering glance at Jack, clasps his hands behind his back and walks out, no doubt before he can be cajoled into any more unlawful springiness.

"So, does Frasier know that you're using this?"

"Don't ask, don't tell, Danny."

I look up at Jack, vaguely surprised at his choice of words, and he just shrugs at me. He looks like he has no intention of getting off of the trampoline, either. I start to get dizzy watching him effortlessly bounce up and down, first with his hands clasped behind his back, mimicking Teal'c, like he's just taking a stroll, and then waving them up and down as if he's trying to take off.

"Isn't that bad for your knees?"

"Heck, no. Light exertion's okay. I could keep this up all night." He smiles again, and waggles his eyebrows.

I shake my head, wondering if there was ever a time when Jack's words didn't have at least two meanings, if you were to actually bother to look for them. Which it is becoming glaringly apparent that I have been failing to do.

"So, come on, Daniel, come have a bounce."

"Er, no, that's okay, thanks. I've just come in to use the weights."

"I could make it an order."

"An order to bounce?"

"Uh-huh."

"What, like, 'on my mark, quick bounce?'"

"Something like that."

"And I always obey your orders, don't I, Jack."

Jack grins, seizing the challenge. I wonder whether we are actually flirting. It sort of sounds like the sort of thing we have always said to each other.

"Daniel Jackson, I am ordering you to get up here and bounce your ass off."

"Oh, well, if that is what my country demands of me."

"Oh, it is, it is."

"Well, in that case, Colonel."

"Cool."

He holds out a hand to me, and hauls me up onto the trampoline. It's not that large, maybe six foot by ten, which means that we have to stick fairly close together. So maybe he takes a second longer than is strictly necessary to release my hand. I have no idea. All I know is that we end up, side by side, shoulders occasionally touching.

Jack is on form. Really on form. He is witty, disarmingly charming, totally natural. And his skin has a very slight sheen to it from the exercise. When he bounces close to me, I catch a faint tang of aftershave and pine shower gel. I try not to look at him and watch my feet.

"So, come here often?"

My head snaps round before I can help it, and I gaze into those deceptive, chocolate-brown eyes; see the open, friendly smile. It's been too long for me, surely. That I can feel myself being seduced by some madman bouncing lazily beside me on a trampoline.

Somehow, we turn to face one another, and Jack reaches out to grab my hands, stalling as he touches my fingertips. He looks into my eyes and I feel my breath catch in my throat. Surely usually he would have just grabbed hold, like he did with Teal'c. Now though... something's changed. Maybe Jack's body language radar has been working overtime, or maybe it's the simple fact that I can't stop smiling at him, either.

"It's okay," I say, curling my fingers around his.

"Really?" he gazes down at our hands, all thoughtfulness, serious.

"Really."

I know that expression. Jack is processing, assessing, strategising. He seems to come to some sort of decision.

"You busy on Friday?"

"No, not especially, why?"

"We haven't done our beer and pizza thing for a while..."

"Okay." Oh, yeah. That's definitely okay.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

And he starts grinning again, like all his problems have been solved. Somehow along the way, he also decides it's time to lighten the mood again. He resumes his bouncing, this time higher, more energetic. I have to keep up or get thrown off.

I hope that no one is watching this. I can't remember if there are cameras in here. Probably. I hope that Sergeant Davis doesn't get hold of this tape. His Christmas party specials are real blackmail material.

Jack starts making bizarre noises. I just have to laugh. God help me, but I do love the guy. This irascible, immature... Love. Jack. Dammit, sometimes I think too much, instead of watching my feet. I stumble, crazily winding up in his arms, and lord help me, we are still bouncing, only... now we're a little out of sync, and I gasp as we accidentally rub up against one another.

Oh, Lord.

Jack catches it too.

Firmness.

Friction.

We really need to get off of this trampoline.

* * *

Chapter 3

The mission and general weirdness finally catches up with me. I stumble into my bunk on the base and sleep for twelve hours straight. When I finally surface, it's getting on for eight o'clock Wednesday evening, so the base is blissfully quiet. Jack has gone home, but Sam is still in her lab. I stand in the doorway for a second, watching her fuss over something that looks vaguely Tollan.

"Hi! I've brought coffee and sandwiches."

She looks up, almost guiltily, and places the device back in her desk drawer.

"You okay?"

"Yes. Sure. You okay?"

"Mmm."

"Not... had a disagreement with the Colonel?"

"No."

She eyes me cautiously, her glance picking up the fact that I've started chewing on a fingernail.

"So what's up?"

"Nothing, really."

"Daniel."

I sit down next to her and share out the food. She digs in.

"You remember what you were saying the other night?"

"No. You'll have to do better than that, Daniel. What are you talking about?" She waves the remains of her sandwich in my general direction before wolfing the rest of it down.

"When we were together at your place. You said something about people either wanting to mother me or get in my pants."

"I didn't think you'd remember that. I thought you were drunk."

"I was drunk?" She's one to talk. "Anyway, I've just been thinking about it, that's all."

Sam does that quizzical expression.

"Specifically with regards to SG-1."

"Oh. The Colonel."

"You knew about that?"

"Well, sure. Wasn't it obvious?"

"You knew he wanted to get in my..."

"Oh... I thought you'd just wised up about the mothering thing. I thought... oh!" she breaks off to cover up a chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, Daniel. Are you saying that you two aren't..."

"No!" Well...

"Oh!"

"What?"

"Sorry. I guess... well, the other night I just wanted you to spill the beans. I was getting frustrated that you hadn't told us yet."

"What?" I sag. "Did everybody know that Jack had feelings for me - except me?"

She just looks bemused; shrugs her shoulders.

"We kind of thought you two had been together for, well, months."

"Months?"

She nods.

"Since Nem, anyway."

"We?"

"It's okay Daniel; just Teal'c. You were both... ah." She shrugs again. "I just figured you were both doing an excellent job of being really, really discreet. No gossip, I swear. But come on, you two have been making goo-goo eyes at each other since forever!"

"No!"

For some reason, Sam finds this really funny. Perhaps it is because my mouth is opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"I mean, why the hell else did you think I was happy to share a tent with Teal'c all the time?"

I clasp my head in my hands.

* * *

Chapter 4

Friday! Sing hosanna! What with that lame-assed treaty and reviewing paperwork on new recruits, it takes about a million years to get here. And now Daniel seems to have wised up, I want to get him off base and on my couch as quickly as possible. He keeps giving me these funny looks. The 'I know what you're thinking' looks, or at the very least the 'I think I know what you're thinking' looks. And then, seventeen hundred hours, just as I'm finishing up and in no way playing Minesweeper, I get a call from George. Dickwad Davis is here. Can I please come up and... blah, blah, blah.

Which means I have to call Danny. Who very sweetly tells me that he'll wait. Which probably just means he's equally up to the eyeballs and wants to get stuff finished.

In the meeting, I make noises in all the right places, but it's still knocking on twenty-one hundred hours when I can drag my sorry ass out of there and down to Daniel's for the start of our down time, and more importantly, our date. He knows it's a date, right?

"Hey Jack," he starts, jumping up full of beans as I march in. "Remember what I was saying about Hedante?"

I've been thinking seduction, so Hedante has kind of slipped my mind. Understandably.

"No?"

"You know I said that the prison complex was about twelve thousand years old? Well, I've just been looking at an inscription I found in Linnea's quarters. Look!"

He grabs me by the arm and pulls me over to the desk.

"I still can't make it out, but the letter forms bear some resemblance to Ancient Norse. It's just... Jack, this is similar to one of the languages on the walls at Heliopolis."

Daniel is thrilled with the possibility of discovery.

"This could be the evidence we need; that this is the language of the original gate builders!"

We stand close to one another. And he still holds my arm.

"So what are you saying? Do you..." be selfless, Jack... "you want to stay here and work on this?" If you say yes, then I'm going to drag you out of here anyway. Kicking and screaming. Maybe thrashing around a little.

He meets my gaze, mouth slightly open. Like he's just remembered his prior engagement, maybe? I can but hope.

"Oh! Oh. No, that's fine. I mean..."

"Daniel?"

"Jack," he says, quietly shifting gears and giving my arm a squeeze. "This will probably take years. How about we go get that pizza?"

* * *

The mood changes the second we're in the truck. Jack is silent all the way home. His driving is economical, his movements swift. I watch as the muscles in his forearm tense and relax on the wheel, a sharp jerk needed to avoid a swerving cyclist. We cruise down the mountain road at exactly the speed limit. Stop in all the right places. But we're always already in motion in that fleeting second between 'red' and 'green'. Jack needs to get home, and fast.

I've seen him like this on missions. When the mood descends, nothing will stand between Jack and his goal. He is a dynamic force. He looks over at me, briefly, and in the streetlight I catch a knowing, tight-lipped smile, eyes hooded. I have chosen to spend the evening with this man. And there is every indication that Jack is about to go Alpha on me. Big-time.

Jack wants me.

Has wanted me for months.

And I have only known this for five days.

It's not like I feel trapped. I tentatively willing to see where this goes. But the problem is, my brain keeps working overtime, pointing out all the cons. And my body has been forcefully pointing out all the pros since Monday morning, which is more than a little confusing, and I'm still having trouble adjusting. And Jack sitting there looking ready to pounce any second isn't doing anything to make me feel less nervous.

This is all a bit fast. And we haven't done anything yet.

I start to fidget in my seat. Jack catches the movement, and in the same instant, relaxes his grip on the wheel and starts to slow down. When did we get like this? When did this happen? That we know each other so well, we can adjust to each other's emotions. Sam would probably shrug and say 'team dynamic'.

He parks carefully, flips on the light and ushers me in.

* * *

Daniel does the lip-lick thing again, and I reign myself in.

"Drink, Daniel?"

He nods. "Yes, please."

"Beer, wine..."

"Er... can I just have some water for now?" He looks kind of apologetic.

"Sure."

So, okay. Hold tight, O'Neill. Don't blow it.

"Do you want to order the pizza?"

"Er... actually, I'm not feeling all that hungry at the moment. Do you mind if we leave it a bit?"

This is so not going to be easy.

"Sure. Do you want to find something to watch?"

Daniel feels safer once he's on the familiar ground of 'programs that won't annoy Jack, that I can bear to watch'. He finds something safe; some nature program or other. Lots of birds flapping about and pecking at each other.

I pass him the water and sit down at the opposite end of the couch with my beer. It takes a while, but since I don't instantly jump him, he starts to unwind, getting into the program. I do my best to try to convince him that everything is alright, the only way I know how; by making snide remarks at the television, about the program, the birds, the commentator, the camera work.

The beer gets finished a bit too fast.

"Another drink, Daniel?"

"Wine, please. And pass the phone."

Which is a lot more like it. With alcohol inside him and rich greasy food, who knows what might happen?

What happens is eleven o'clock ticks round, in companionable, but horny for me at least, silence. We have watched a program on bower birds, a program on penguins, and a program on Montezuma. I want to shoot the fucking penguins and drop them on the Aztecs.

At the third beer and second glass of wine, I finally put my arm along the back of my own couch. It hardly goes anywhere near the guy, but at least it's a start.

He leans back, and gives me one of those looks.

"Has Janet taken that trampoline away?" Enter Jackson comment number one, from left field.

"Oh, yeah. Siler came back in, must have been just after we left. Apparently Cassie loves it, but it's taking up half of Janet's lawn. Why?"

"No reason."

He goes quiet; then smiles, shyly.

"Things seemed a lot easier when we were bouncing around, that's all."

"I noticed, you know."

"I know."

Silence.

"Sam said..."

Oh, so Sam was responsible for this little number, was she? I must remember to thank her. After I tear her off a strip.

"A while."

"Mmm."

"Are you... okay?"

"I... I'm fine." Which I've heard before, and it means nothing. "I mean, yes. I just can't believe how blind I must have been."

I shrug. "Not prepared for my Special Ops seduction, then?"

"Is that what this is?"

"Hope so."

"I'm still having a bit of difficulty coming to terms with all this."

"I figured. So."

"So?"

"So?" I sigh, and turn to face him. He thrums with nervous energy. He is no stranger to relationships, but knows he fucks them up, just like I do. So, enough messing about. Actions speak louder.

"If you want me to stop, just say."

"What are you...?"

I lean in and let my lips lightly brush against Daniel's. He instinctively closes his eyes, as I enjoy the fleeting feel of soft dry lips before pulling pack. I'm not sure what I feel. I'm too busy watching his face.

His eyes spring open again, tongue instinctively flicking out to wet his lips.

"Oh!"

His surprise is fleeting, almost coy, as if sexuality is a guilty pleasure he's just not allowed to have.

"Oh." He smiles at me. "That was... nice."

"Just nice?"

He just carries on smiling. And my competitive streak wakes up. "I'll see if I can do better than nice."

Before that, though, Daniel turns, presses a hand onto my shoulder and plants a very firm, determined kiss on my lips. Because he can be competitive, too. And it's very different to our first kiss. There is nothing tentative or fleeting about this baby. His warm, soft lips hold me down. Now this is more like it. He pulls back as my lips open, gazing at my mouth.

"Jack?"

Oh, no you don't, Daniel. It's like the confidence starts to ooze out of him as the reality of the situation starts to take hold. Don't you start using that brain of yours again now. It'll ruin all of my nefarious plans.

"Daniel," I cajole, stroking his hair. He leans into my hand, which I take as a good sign. "Daniel."

He closes his eyes again as I kiss him; as my tongue strokes against his lips, and they open for me. I hold him and guide him down onto the couch. I take things real slow. I kiss sweet, delicate; I taste in tiny increments. I taste the bitter wine on his tongue, as it eventually responds to mine. His hands move, fingers clenching, first on thin air, and then finding my sides, rubbing against my back. Finally, I feel his arousal. I start to feel that warm tingling in my veins as my worries seep away. Under me, Daniel starts to relax, mouth now opening fully, tongue now exploring my lips, the inside of my mouth.

I revel in the warmth and wetness of this; I could keep this up forever, despite the fact I'm now regretting I've still got my shoes on, and that we are both fully dressed. Part of me admits that this is more than I could have hoped for, but it is rapidly getting outvoted by the part of me that just wants to fuck him through the couch.

Daniel is... cautious. He explores tentatively, becoming familiar with the terrain before moving on. I want to devour him.

Finally, he opens his eyes.

"Jack," he sighs.

"Mmm?"

"Thank you."

Like he thinks it's over, like that's it for the night.

"Er... you're welcome?"

He shuffles a bit under me, puts his hands on my arms and starts to push me away.

"What?"

"That was very nice."

Well, that's a libido dampener.

He leans forwards and tries to place a delicate kiss on my cheek. Would have succeeded too, if I hadn't moved my head and got my mouth in the way.

"Jack."

"What?"

"Thank you." Said as if to mean 'enough'.

"Okay."

He pulls himself off of the couch and heads to the kitchen. I'm stunned. The guy is amazing. He has no concept of... well, let's just say that guys are generally a bit more straightforward and easy-going about this sort of thing. Once I've finished being stunned, I head to the kitchen to find the clueless genius making espresso.

"Daniel, what's going on?"

He shoots me a look from under his glasses, which may as well have a zat behind it, the damage it does my ego. But there we go. The guy knows his own mind, and I'm not going to be able to cajole him.

"I've had a very pleasant evening. And a tiring week. So I think I'll go to bed."

With a treble espresso? What is this, Daniel's patented send yourself to sleep by short-circuit?

"I... I'm just not used to this," he manages, by way of an apology.

And so what have we learned here today, children? Daniel Jackson does not put out on a first date. Much. I slump against the counter as I watch that perfect form disappear up the steps to the spare room. Then I take my frustrated libido to bed. And I know there's only one way my body will let me go to sleep. Sure, it's hot and wet, but it doesn't include caffeine.

* * *

Chapter 5

With Jack pawing at me and humping my leg, it takes all of my willpower to get off of that couch. It feels good, and has certainly answered a few of my questions. I need a bit more time, but while I'm pacing around Jack's spare bedroom, I realise that he has answered all the difficult questions already. He obviously thinks its work the risk. But on whose terms? I'm no pushover. I'm certainly not just going to lie there and take whatever Jack wants to dish out, no matter how pleasant it might be. If we do this, it's us together as equals.

And the only way I can realistically do this, without having one of those tedious heart-to-hearts that Jack loves so much, is good old non-verbal communication. With my coffee finished, I contemplate just marching to his room and, well, for some reason an image of me taking Jack up against the wardrobe springs to mind, Jack's head bashing against the door, and all that stuff he keeps stored on the top of it raining down around us.

I catch my reflection in the mirror; a wry smile. I haven't really spent much time fantasizing about Jack; I do tend to get a bit preoccupied with work. Maybe now it's time I started. I sit back down on the bed and start to undress. I bet I know what he's up to right now, the bastard. It takes me forever to get to sleep, mostly because I'm too polite to jack off in my host's spare bed. 

Everything is much clearer in the daylight. I note changes in the room as I drag my face out of the pillow. Jack is still a rat bastard. He's a rat bastard with an agenda, and what he couldn't have last night through passion he is now trying to get through stealth.

There is a cup of coffee on the nightstand, still fresh and hot. The drapes have been opened a fraction, just enough to let a thin sliver of sunlight fall onto the end of the bed, and on the floor next to me is not only the Culture section of the newspaper, which he never reads, but the section with the cryptic crossword, which we always fight over. For some reason this obvious tactic turns me on tremendously.

I briefly wonder how Jack knew when I was about to wake; whether that coffee has been repeatedly heated, or whether Jack has been lurking stalker-like by the door waiting for me to surface.

He's probably been up for hours, which means whatever tactic I want to try, he's already got the upper hand.

So... I'll just lie here for a bit, have my coffee and do the crossword. Ah, without a pen. Not fair.

It's nearly eleven when I wander into the kitchen in Jack's spare robe. He's nowhere to be seen, but I can here sounds from the garden. Jack talking across the fence to a neighbour. I move out to the deck and catch his attention.

He turns back to the man, carries on talking and tilts his head in my general direction before sauntering in. So, we're in nonchalant mood today, are we?

He closes the door behind him.

"Thanks for the coffee." I lean in and kiss him on the cheek, stroking his stubbled jaw.

Which, from the look in his eyes, wasn't what he was quite expecting. Which means I've got the upper hand for about five seconds before he gets with the program. I grab the front of his shirt, and guide him so that his back is against the wall. Then, before he can react, I lean in and kiss him. I mean really kiss him. One hand on his shoulder, the other on the wall behind his head, I force my tongue into his mouth and wrap it around his. I play with his teeth. I won't let him break for air. He's a resourceful guy; he should have figured out by now that's what his nose is for.

He's responsive. The second he reacts, he reacts with his whole body. And the first thing he does is to take hold of my robe and pull it off of my shoulders. He pushes it down until it's caught against the inside of my elbows, locked rigid where I hold him against the wall.

I break the kiss, nibble along the side of his face and down his neck. There is just enough of his collar bone visible for me to lap at it. And I lick it, moving up the side of his neck before plunging into his ear.

Jack howls. I mean, really howls. And I am suitably smug. He grabs me for another scorching kiss, and I note distractedly that somehow my robe has fallen open. Jack takes advantage, stroking my chest, fingering at a nipple.

And so... I break away again. As wonderful as this is. I step back, and tie the robe closed.

"Well," I nearly manage to control my voice, "as I said, thanks for the coffee. I'm just going to take a shower." And I try my most winning smile. Yeah, choke on that, flyboy.

Jack gapes, but his gaze hardens quick as lightening, and, well, you knew he could do feral, right?

"You are a total prick tease, Jackson," he blurts out, as I wander down the hall to the bathroom. Behind me, he fumbles in the closet, then throws a heap of towels in my general direction.

"Thank you," I reply sweetly, as I pick up the towels, turn on my heels, and click the door locked behind me.

So, I take a few seconds to catch my breath. During which time I realise that I have not heard the Colonel walking back down the corridor. Which means he is standing outside, listening. I turn on the water and count to twenty before opening the door again.

"Anything I can do to help?" I ask, as Jack pretends to be futzing in the closet. Funnily enough, he just scowls. I close and lock the door, hang the robe up, count to twenty again, and unlock the door before stepping into the shower.

* * *

Chapter 6

Daniel is in the shower. He leans forward from the hip slightly to catch the jet of water, which runs through his hair, down his spine and over and around his perfect ass.

Daniel is in the shower. He is braced against the wall, hands above his head, crossed at the wrist. As I watch, he moves his face into the water, eyes shut, catching the jet in his face and shaking his head like a dog to get rid of the excess.

Daniel is in the shower, and If I don't do something about it in the next five seconds, I will come in my pants.

I strip, fast, and slide in behind him. I grab him around the waist as he turns in my arms.

"Oh, good morning, Jack," he says pleasantly, right before I make a play for his tonsils.

"Morning, sweetie. Wanna fuck?" I reply, because it's always polite to ask.

He reaches down between us, and grabs hold of my erection, using it like a damn handle to lead me over to where he wants me, which is against the wall again, apparently.

"You really do have a thing about walls, don't you?

"I'm thinking maybe wardrobes might be worth a try, too."

I run my hands down his sides and over his abs as he nonchalantly strokes his thumb up the side of my dick.

"You know, Daniel," I manage, as try to get myself under control, "If I knew that was what coffee did to you first thing in the morning, I'd always bring a cup to you in your sleeping bag when we're off world."

"I'll bear that in mind," he replies, all cheerfulness as he starts to get into a rhythm.

"Daniel. Hold up. Stop."

"What?"

"Unless you want this to be over before it's got started, please, stop now."

He looks incredibly smug, and gives me a good hard squeeze.

"You bastard."

He moves close, and we touch from head to toe. He attacks my mouth, and my hands roam frantically over his body. I want to be everywhere at once, mostly from the inside. The skin on his dick is soft against my palm, the crease of his ass is just aching to be touched. He reaches behind me and grabs at the shower gel as I pull us even closer together. A surge shoots through me as our cocks clash; I bite down on my lip as my fingers meet around his ass.

Daniel thinks he's in control, but I can see he's starting to lose it. His hands shake as he runs soapy fingers down my chest. Reluctantly, I offer him one of my hands, and he squirts some of the gel into my palm. I make quick work, rubbing it into his shoulders, his chest, and on down.

As my finger finds his tight pucker, Daniel starts to grind against me. He bites down hard on my shoulder and rakes at me with his fingernails. We don't have much of a rhythm going, but what we've got is pure electric. Teeth and nails, Daniel, god, teeth and nails. My free hand grabs our cocks and we thrust together, the last of the shower gel a thin trail of suds between us.

I can't hold back; I come, hard and fast, Daniel seconds behind me. I hate to use that clichéd expression about freight trains, but it's pretty appropriate. Apparently, Daniel agrees. He sighs into my neck, just as the water starts to cool around us, and whispers "choo-choo".

We just manage to clean off before the water turns icy. Together, we climb out of the stall. Wordlessly, we towel each other dry, exchanging the odd kiss. He strokes my face; I run my fingers through his hair. I could really, totally get used to all of this.

* * *

Chapter 7

Of course, the down time is over way too fast. The next mission takes us to a whole new level of weird. P7J-989.

Teal'c and I appear to be stuck in one of the worst events of my life, crazily having to relive it time and time again. When John dies on me for the seventh or eighth time, I start to think that the next time the van pulls up, I might very well shoot him myself.

"I won't play any more!" I yell. Then the smug bastard who calls himself 'the Keeper' turns up, and after a little tête-à-tête, Teal'c and I are spirited away to Carter and Daniel. Daniel, who is busily watching his parents die in front of him, over and over. His face is red from withheld tears. Carter does absolutely-fucking-nothing to help.

"He called me Danny, like I'm still a little kid," he whispers into my shoulder, as I draw him close for a manly, strictly supportive hug.

"It's okay," I whisper in his ear, realising guiltily that I do the same thing, only for different reasons.

The keeper resurfaces just as I'm smoothing his hair down. He gestures smugly, his minions milling round him, seething towards us.

"Why do you refuse to enjoy the opportunities that I have given you? I can take you anywhere you can remember, anywhere you can imagine."

"Enjoy?"

"So we're right, this is a simulated world." Sam has figured that we're all stuck inside some kind of virtual reality. Our memories are entertainment for the 'residents' looked after by this Keeper.

"So... what? We're like new software?" Daniel blurts. "Er... I mean... Imagine you were locked in a room for a thousand years with only a VCR, a TV and five movies. How long could you watch those five movies until you were bored silly? What you wouldn't give for just... four more."

I see where this is going. This is just for starters. And coming right up, I figure, we have the adult movie of your choice. Hot, soapy fun with the boys. I think not. Much as I love Carter and Teal'c, I really don't want them to know that I fucked our archaeologist in the shower. Round two wasn't half bad, either.

Daniel looks distinctly unimpressed. Sam's still processing.

"So you're using our minds, our memories, imaginations, dreams, for some sort of programming?"

"Actually, I can remove information from only two of your minds." He points at Daniel and myself. "But fear not, there is no block against input into your minds; you two can enjoy our adventures and these two minds; they provide more than enough rich experience and imagination to provide years of entertainment for my residents."

Rich experience and imagination is right. We had a bit of a talk over breakfast. Daniel's got a heck of an imagination on him, and I didn't stop drooling all weekend. It was what started round two off in the first place. No fucking way am I playing any of that out for this guy.

It's a bit of a mess after that. Predictably, our escape doesn't go quite as smoothly as planned. We think we're back home, even down to the briefing, but no, we're still in the virtual reality. We manage it on the second attempt, freeing all of the Keeper's residents in the process.

The whole thing seriously screws up our sense of reality. The actual debriefing is totally weird. I keep expecting Hammond to morph into the Keeper, and I want to use his head as a bongo to make sure that I'm not dreaming. Actually, it screws us up for the whole week. We just don't trust our senses. Hammond relieves us all from missions until we sort ourselves out. And if there's one thing that can make me believe that we're back in the real world, it's having to work through all the paperwork I've been putting off. Even the Keeper and his warped sense of humour wouldn't want to go through this time and again.

Even so, Daniel and I orbit around each other for a couple of days, saying little. I finally pluck up the courage to sort things out on Friday afternoon, after he's missed yet another opportunity for me to tackle him in the commissary.

I stand in the doorway to his office for a few minutes surveying the scene. He's totally oblivious, of course. Man, why does he always have to bend over like that, with his ass facing the door? Daniel has the most fantastic long legs. Okay, he is drop-dead gorgeous from head to toe.

Daniel is, predictably, sorting rocks. What I wasn't expecting was the singing. He's obviously quite happy in his own little world, but what the heck is that din?

"Daniel?"

He turns round and smiles. A warm, phenomenal smile.

"Hi!"

Oh, yeah.

"What's the... music?"

"Oh... sorry..." he reaches for the remote, incidentally accentuating his buttocks again in a totally unforgettable way. "I couldn't resist, after our virtual reality briefing with General Hammond."

I haven't a clue what he's going on about.

"And you thought it was really funny when Sideshow Bob was singing it."

"Now I'm really confused."

"Virtual Hammond?"

"Nope."

"Pirates of Penzance?"

"Still not with you, Daniel." And tell me quickly, before I throttle you, please.

"I am the very model of a modern Major-General."

I groan. He smirks. We're fine.

"Tonight?"

"Sure," Daniel replies casually. "Late, though. I've got something I want to do first."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

He reaches out to me, and we touch each other on the arm, briefly. I'm grinning like an idiot as I turn on my heel and walk out.

* * *

Chapter 8

"I hear you've been a naughty boy," Sam greets me as I ring her doorbell for the second time. I guess I flush beetroot red, because Sam suddenly looks thoughtful and drags me inside.

"Uh-huh. Couch. Drink. Then spill."

"Sam?"

"Nope. You sit. I get drinks."

Sam scurries into the kitchen and I loll forward on the couch, hands between my knees.

"So, Daniel," she says all nonchalance as she saunters back into the lounge, bearing garish orange and red concoctions. Do you want to tell me what that blush was all about?"

"I... er..."

"What I actually meant was that Janet found out about you guys using her trampoline." She looks sideways at me. "And I have to tell you, she's not very happy about it. Partly, I think, because she didn't get to see the look on Teal'c's face."

"He wasn't that impressed."

"I can imagine. She wanted to describe the whole escapade to those nurses he's been sniffing round lately. Thinks it might cool them off a little, though I somehow doubt it." She takes a sip of her cocktail. "Davis says he's editing the tape this weekend."

"Hmmm."

"He's thinking about using 'Bolero' as the soundtrack, but Feretti's rooting for the Hendrix version of 'Wild Thing'."

"Oh."

She takes another drink, while mine remains untouched.

"So, Daniel? The blush?"

"I can't. I can't say anything, Sam."

"As in?"

"As in don't ask."

"As in don't tell?"

I give her the most minute of nods.

She pauses, then lets out a long breath. "Wow. So... you two? Finally? Oh, Daniel!" She reaches in and gives me a hug, then draws back, looking pensive. "I know I said..." she touches me on the shoulder, lets out another long breath.

"It's okay Sam, you don't have to say anything. We know." We know they're okay with it. We know just how extremely careful we are going to have to be. It scares me, but no more than just about every other thing we encounter on an almost daily basis.

"I'm not staying tonight, Sam," I admit, as I finally take a small sip of my drink.

She pulls it out of my hand.

"So go to him," she says.

~END~


End file.
